


get your kicks on route 66

by shuantics



Category: NCT (Band), SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (lets make johnshua a national icon ok? ok), (uh ish?), (wow i made these two in /love/ didnt i), Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Established Relationship, Excessive American-ness, Fluff, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Porn With Plot, Riding, Road Trips, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sex on the Phone, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Smut, Teasing, Top!Johnny, bttm!Jisoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuantics/pseuds/shuantics
Summary: Jisoo hopes he doesn't float away, for in this moment he feels nothing but infinite.





	get your kicks on route 66

"I have an idea."

With a sigh, Jisoo slumps down into his rickety, black office chair - a position undoubtedly doing damage to his spine - and runs his fingers through his coconut hair, the strands feebly flopping back into place. "Johnny, when you text me, 'pick up the phone there's an emergency' I kind of imagine something a little more drastic happening than a light bulb going off in your head."

From the other end of his handheld, Youngho laughs, deep and croakily, the kind of laugh that Jisoo can't help but smile at. "Well, you'd ignore me until your lunch break otherwise."

"Yes, and do you know why that is?" Jisoo peeks over the top of his desk cubicle to the other end of the office where, through a set of clear, glass doors, his boss sits distracted at his desk, typing while droning to some poor listener on the other end of the phone. "Because I'm at work. You know, that thing that gives me a pay as long as I do as I'm told."

Chuckling again, Youngho yawns to a background of the distinct rustling of bed sheets. Jisoo looks at the clock - eleven in the morning in Los Angeles means it's one in the afternoon in Chicago, the likely time for someone as the likes of Seo Youngho to rise from slumber. Jisoo can't blame him, however; if he were a somewhat successful, self-employed, independent writer himself he'd probably stay sleeping until noon too. Alas, he's not, he's the exact opposite of anyone self-employed or independent or even remotely successful. Jisoo's a travel agent, which may sound nice to the ear - it certainly sounded engaging to Jisoo when he hopped off the college boat with an associate's in the educational version of wanderlust - until one realizes that, in being a travel agent, very little traveling is actually done, and workers casually find themselves becoming much more familiarized with the likes of a wooden desk and social skills that are seriously underdeveloped.

"An office life is so boring," Youngho says and, to it, Jisoo scoffs with very bitter understanding.

"Well, if I could live wild and free like you, baby, you know I would."

Jisoo watches the scenery outside the ground floor window: the straight stretch of road that leads all the way to the beach; the Thai restaurant across the way that doesn't open until four in the afternoon; the cluster of people walking from left to right and right to left, some of whom, Jisoo can lamely recognize. Such as the man - your average looking young male - who walks his dog between the times of ten-thirty and eleven-fifteen every weekday, or the woman - your stereotypical gym-looking lady - who jogs that block three times every Tuesday and Wednesday. He sees this sight every goddamned day, he can't help that he's a people watcher. And when watching people is all he has to pass the time, people watch he shall. 

In short, Jisoo's realized that over the four years from when he left high school, to the present day where he works an above average, nine-to-five that lets him plan trips for strangers to go to the places he desperately wants to visit himself -- somewhere along the way having to have said goodbye to the physical relationship between himself and his now long-distance boyfriend who had left California in bound of his hometown in Illinois to pursue a career in journalism -- his life has become considerably dull. Sure, he works for a pay just good enough to get him a nice apartment a short walk from the pier, and he has a more than wonderful, supportive, handsome boyfriend (granted, two thousand-ish miles away) who's voice is there when he needs it. But Jisoo's the kind of person that knows he'll never settle until he's dead.

To phrase, there's a big, big world out there and Jisoo, in comparison, is a small, small, man. And God looked down upon Jisoo when he was born and decided, "I'm going to give this one the biggest need to travel amongst everyone born in this year of 1995." Basically, Jisoo wants to see different things, feel different winds and love in different ways, but he's stuck. He's stuck looking at the same view every weekday and is stuck watching the same Judge Judy replays every weeknight. He's stuck shopping at the same grocery store, saying hi to the same old lady who bags his items. He's stuck listening to his boyfriend telling him all about the wonderful adventures he encountered in his day and he's stuck wishing he could do the same. While Youngho's out there, in the American city of all American cities, living his life, Jisoo is still here, waiting for that one big change that's going to remind him he's not just a working robot and he has a life he needs to start living.

(Of course, when measuring against Youngho, Jisoo's rather small anyway, but that's beside the main point.)

"Anyway, can I tell you my idea?" 

Flicking his attention from the drag of pedestrians outside, Jisoo focuses back on the sweet, soothing voice that echoes around his ear. "Sure, babe," he says, "go on."

"So, you know that website that keeps asking me to write a piece on the American pride or something like that?"

"Mh-hm."

"Well, I decided I'm going to do it."

"That's great." Jisoo quirks a smile.

"Yeah, but this is the idea: a piece about traveling along the Main Street of America."

Jisoo hums and spins around aimlessly in his desk chair. "It sounds awesome, hon, but... did you call me in the middle of work just to tell me about your next job?" He stammers quickly in reprise, "n-not that I'm not happy to hear about your work, but couldn't it have waited?"

"Now, see, that's where you come in." If possible, Jisoo feels he can hear Youngho's smile in his voice.

"Me?"

"Yep. What, you really think I'm going to travel all the way across America and  _not_ have you by my side?"

Jisoo stops and takes in what's being fed. "Wait, wait wait. You want me to come with you on your work trip?"

"Basically. But don't think of it as a work trip, think of it more as a road trip that I'll get a half-decent piece out of."

Jisoo peeks again at his boss, deeming it clear but still hunching over to talk like he's saying everything he shouldn't. "Are you serious?"

"Baby, I'm asking you if you want to go on vacation, not asking you to marry me." Jisoo can hear the oddly specific sound of Youngho wandering across his apartment. "But, yes, I'm serious." There's a pause before he continues. "Come on, think: when was the last time you had a holiday?"

"Uhm, the summer we went to New Orleans," Jisoo answers. "The summer you left."

"Exactly, that was  _four years_ ago, and, if I do say so as your esteemed boyfriend-" (Jisoo snorts.) "-you need a break."

Jisoo will admit, he's been waiting for an opportunity to get away for a long, long time, and this particular one - one where he'll be able to get away with just about his favorite boy on the earth - does seem to jump out at him. A summer on Route 66... It's the kind of traveling young Jisoo yearned for, the type of vacation he'd beg his mom to take him on after breaking up from school. Just thinking about it raises goosebumps on him, like he can almost feel the way the wind of every state would wash his hair and chill his skin. If Jisoo reaches out his hand, he's sure he can see the sun poking from behind his digits, fingers being slowly baked by the sun that pours light over the world. And all by Youngho's side? A week or two on the road without a care in the world? God's miracles never seemed so obvious.

"I don't know, babe," Jisoo says in utter contradiction to the big voice in his head screaming  _say yes, say yes, say yes!_ "It's so sudden. I'll need to take time off work, a-and do we even have the money for a road trip?"

"The website says they'll fund it," Youngho replies, "and really? Just say your grandma fell down the stairs or something, they'll give you two weeks off no problem." 

Jisoo wets his lips and tries to desperately choke out another reason why he'd be better off staying in L.A. God knows why -- hasn't Jisoo just spent the last four years wishing he could pack up and run away?

"Come  _on,_ baby," Youngho begs. "You and I both know you really want to go, and I don't want to have to do this on my own. Remember when we were in middle school? You and I would plan all these elaborate trips around the world that we were so adamant that we were going to go on?"

Jisoo remembers. In fact, he takes the scrapbook they made, with dim torches and sticky glue under the covers of Jisoo's bed sheets, out from his closet from time to time, to grace his fingers over the pictures they cut out from magazines and the crayons they used to scribble their plans with. He remembers, even later, standing on the cliff by the Observatory and pointing out to the Pacific Ocean, "We'll get a boat, one day," he'd say, holding Youngho's hand tight, "and we'll sail wherever the hell we want." He remembers how he and Johnny used to have dreams, but the cold, cruel clasp of life seems to have shaken them out of one of them at least.

"Yeah," Jisoo replies, clearing his throat. "I remember."

"It's just two weeks, Jisoo," Youngho says, his voice sounding less suave and more like a desperate puppy. "Please? I miss you, and I miss traveling."

Jisoo thinks for the short time he has after his boss pops his head out of his office and says, "Joshua, personal calls in personal time, please." He thinks of that wind, that sun, those chills and that feeling of being free; he thinks of Youngho's warm eyes, Youngho's warm hand, Youngho's warm body, and Youngho's warm soul before he lets out a hesitant, deep sigh.

"Okay," he says, hearing Youngho cheer instantly on the phone. "Okay, I'll come."

"Thank you, baby boy," Youngho says. (Jisoo feels his cheeks heat up, and doesn't think it's because of the heatwave.) "I've actually, uhm, already booked you a flight over here for the weekend, so tell your boss fast, yeah?"

Jisoo chuckles and chews on his lip. "Yeah, okay. We'll talk more about it later, alright?"

"Alright." Youngho sounds giddy as he laughs. "God, I'm so excited, I'm gonna make this the best vacation you've ever taken."

"Oh, I don't know," Jisoo teases. "That summer in Louisianna was pretty great."

"I'll make it better, I promise you."

Smiling, Jisoo nods, even though Youngho can't see him. "I gotta go."

"Yes, go, work, bring home dough," he jokes, laughing. "Talk later. I love you."

"I love you too."

 

Jisoo hopes he doesn't float away, for in this moment he feels nothing but infinite.

Stretching his arms out, he reaches his hands right up to the blue sky, miles away from the clouds he feels he could reach. The wind batts around his ears, making it hard to hear anything but the sounds of the immaterial fields rolling by as Youngho(his dad)'s light blue, vintage Mustang speeds down the almost empty road. The car is a beauty, Jisoo will say. He's not quite the collectible car enthusiast like he knows the Seo family to be, but he knows how to admire what is essentially a fifty-year-old heap of barely working junk, that seems to run by the good ol' American way just as much as it does on malnourished gas.

"We'll take a rest in St. Louis," Youngho says - shouts, almost, for the still air they parade through gives a loud protest, "get to the motel, then see what fun we can have in the city."

They've been on the road for barely four hours (five, if including the brief stop in Springfield, Illinois where Youngho realized he had left the majority of his writing materials back in Chicago), but Jisoo's already having the time of his life. He hums in response and drops his head back onto the cream seat. His body feels light, airy, free; like a heavy weight was lifted off of his aching shoulders the moment they fired past city limits. He can relax, he can think, he can feel like he hasn't in what seems like a lifetime. He slips his eyes closed as the sun shines even past his sunglasses and grins, wide up at the open sky.

"How'd you feel?" Youngho asks, looking over momentarily before watching the road. He takes in the way Jisoo's natural tan glistens even more so in the heat, his hair pulled back and whacking in the wind.

"Amazing," Jisoo replies. He cracks an eye open and comes to meet Youngho's gaze, almost as warm as the sun above. He reaches over and takes Youngho's free hand, holding it tight and letting his thumb brush over his knuckles.

"So, I was right?" At the quirk of Jisoo's eyebrow, he continues, "You just needed a vacation."

Smiling, Jisoo leans over and gives Youngho a kiss on the cheek. "And I guess I needed you too." Youngho flashes a cheeky smile and Jisoo runs his hand through his black hair -- freshly dyed since he remembers in December it being caramel. "Thank you, Johnny."

"Don't thank me," Youngho says, squeezing Jisoo's hand right back. "Thank the people actually paying for it."

His boyfriend laughs heartily and throws both hands whimsically in the air, letting his voice carry long and loud as he yells out in pure, untainted happiness.

 

Jisoo wakes suddenly to the sound of a slamming door, scaring him so that he sits upright in bed in a flash. The rather crusty sheets to the rather crusty motel room smell musty and probably haven't been used in a while (Jisoo remembers counting four other cars in the thirty-two plus car park). They fall flamboyantly over him, one of his legs being exposed while the other's tucked in, and, although thick, they don't supply much warmth to any inhabitant.

Youngho stands at the foot of the bed, holding his wallet in one hand and a two cups of road-side coffee in the other. "Afternoon, sunshine," he greets, grinning, and, as he notices the faint taunt in his tone, Jisoo questions his own actions the night before, since he can barely remember a thing himself. 

"Afternoon," Jisoo mumbles in reply, his voice croaky and weak which he tries to dispel with a cough. A splitting pain runs through his head like someone's taking a nail and hitting it repeatedly with a sledgehammer into his skull. He reaches up to massage his temples, groaning as his stomach lurches and swirls like some twisted carnival ride. "Wait, _afternoon?_ What time is it?"

"Just passed twelve."

"Jesus, we were meant to be on the road by ten." Jisoo sighs and rubs his tired, sore eyes. "What happened last night?"

"Uh..." Youngho chuckles, offering over one of the coffee cups. "How much do you remember?"

"Not much." Jisoo twists the plastic lid and blows on the dark liquid inside. "I remember unpacking but, after that, very little." He winces and lets out a whine as Youngho reers open the two blackout curtains from the window, the bright sunlight filling the room like a tank with no escape.

"Well, we went out last night to this cute little bar with a jukebox and all, and you went mad." Youngho reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of aspirin tablets, presenting them to Jisoo. "And I mean  _mad._ Dancing on tables, shots, the whole show." He laughs as Jisoo flushes, ashamed. "Then you passed out during sex."

Jisoo gives Youngho a sudden, shocked look. "I _what?"_

Bending over with ripples of laughter erupting through him, Youngho nods. "Yeah, one minute you were moaning like a ghost and the next..." He drops his head on his hands, "... out cold."

"Oh, my God." Jisoo rubs his eyes again, blinking as the light shifts through his eyelashes painfully. He pops two tablets into his mouth and swallows them down with a gulp of the bitter drink. "I don't think I've ever been that drunk in my life."

Youngho seats himself right next to Jisoo on the bed, stroking his hand through Jisoo's hair as the latter groans, hiding his face in the crook of his boyfriend's neck. "Yeah, must be something in this Midwestern water."

For someone who lives a mere half hour away from the epicenter of America's culture and glamour, you'd expect that Jisoo would have lived somewhat of an extensive lifestyle. When one thinks of California, often beaches, riches, bright lights and the untouchable dream come to mind -- after all, what's not exciting about living in L.A? With lavish living in Beverly Hills, to late-night parties Downtown, it's quite a given that a young man who calls the west coast his home would know how to take a walk on the wild side, right? But Jisoo knows none of that. Jisoo knows none of the lives draped in expense or the nights drowned in fun, nor does he have a passion to discover them. He's spent a solid twenty-two years of his life living like a mama's boy, who goes to church on Sundays and works to keep his family safe. He's barely dipped a toe in the so-called Angel's lifestyle. Sure, he's had drinks with friends sitting with their toes in the sands of Santa Monica beach, and had his fair share of rambunctious nights in the back of his car down in San Diego. But Jisoo's never known what outsiders believe the City of Angels is made of. It's almost like he's been made a circle to fit in a square hole. He's a Californian boy, through and through, but there's something about him that he knows doesn't belong.

"Anyway," says Youngho, holding his hand out for Jisoo to take. "You get showered, then we'll get you something to cure that hangover." He runs the hand that was stroking Jisoo's hair right down to the chin, where he pinches cutely, Jisoo keeling into the feeling. "It's a  _long_ drive to Tulsa."

 

Amidst the mindless conversation and laughter, Youngho rolls the car into a sparsely populated gas station standing somewhere on the road to Oklahoma City.

"All I'm asking is: why does, in Monsters Inc., Mike say to Sully, "You've been jealous of my good looks since the fourth grade." when they met in university?"

The conversation, that probably would've tired or at least confused Jisoo if it weren't for such high spirits that radiate from his body, comes to dismissal as Jisoo laughs. "Fine, you wanna talk about conspiracies: How do the cars in Cars reproduce?" He lays his arms atop the side door and looks at Youngho lovingly. "Moreover, how do they even have sex?" 

From jarring the gas pump into the Mustang, Youngho looks up, off into the middle distance with his eyes playfully wide. Jisoo laughs as he suspiciously examines their own car. "I'm sure there are... uses for exhaust pipes."

Exclaiming in distaste, Jisoo shoves him after finally jumping out of the vehicle to stretch his arms up and flex his stiff joints. He's fully aware that Youngho sneaks a peek at the way his blue shirt rides up and shows a scandalous slither of his tanned stomach (in fact, he may have just exaggerated the slip and extended his arms side to side to really show off his sleek, lean curves). 

"Do you want a bite to eat?" Youngho asks, clearing his throat in what seems to be a focus-collector, as he fishes for his wallet in the back seat of the car. 

"I'm good," Jisoo replies. He leans back against the rickety door and, although thinking some rather risque thoughts, decides to keep the  _I'm hungry for something else_ to himself.

Now, one can't exactly blame either of them for the ramped up sexual tension that has been filling the air since the start of the trip. Imagine being away from one's partner for so long, not so much as a handhold in sight -- it's bound to be an explosive reaction when the pair meet; the weeks, months that have passed without a single orgasm at the hands of the other, all being exchanged in one huge clash of romance and passion. To top that, they're all alone, out in the middle of the big city version of nowhere, with little but one another to pass the time. It can't seriously be expected of them to be able to keep their hands off each other for very long. And, not to mention, Youngho's choice of attire - nothing overly boisterous, but the tight, thin white shirt that clings to him - does wonders to not only show off his body, but keeps nagging at those sensitive pressure points in Jisoo's mind too.

Giving Jisoo a quick kiss on the cheek, Youngho bids him with, "I'll buy you some chocolate." as he turns on his heels and jogs off towards the convenience store to pay for their top-up (Jisoo tries, he really, really tries, but can't help but glue his eyes to the way Youngho's jeans tighten around his pert behind and strong thighs as he takes his big strides).

Re-emerging minutes later - indeed a bar of Jisoo's favorite chocolate and drink in hand - Youngho drops everything in the back seat, watching around intently before he snatches up Jisoo's wrist and is dragging him in the direction of the service station bathrooms.

Chuckling in mainly confusion, Jisoo asks, "What are we doing now?" before he's pulled into one of the odd smelling, questionably cleaned stalls and pressed against the division. It's the kind of bathroom that had grime lining the tiles and critters hiding in the corner -- the kind that Jisoo would not like to excuse himself to go to and would much rather hold it in until they reached a more modern set of roadside services. "Hey," he laughs, wrapping his arms around Youngho's broad shoulders while the latter's hands take hold of what his eyes were ogling before, running them up under his untucked shirt. Jisoo tries to utter another word, but suddenly, he's being kissed and kissed hard, kissed  _good,_ as Youngho would say (he always has been rather intent on the fact his lips are the best for Jisoo). It's something different between the long, rough kisses that happen in the motel room, wrapped up in a blanket with the world closing the door on them, and the long, rough kisses that are happening pressed against the wall in a public bathroom. Granted, there's hardly any public in the public bathroom, but Jisoo still feels these tiny jolts of adrenaline run through his fingertips knowing that they shouldn't be doing this here.

The big hands belonging to his boyfriend scale to his butt, using both to simultaneously grope it rockily. Groaning into their kiss, Jisoo pulls apart to jest, "Really can't keep your hands off, can you?" He's kissed again, and again, and again until the picture sinks in; like they're talking in a language of their own. "I would've thought you had enough this morning-" Youngho pulls him closer, their hips rocking together in a gruff sensation that causes tightening in both of their jeans, "-guess not."

"The idea of me ever having enough of you is completely insane, Mr. Hong," Youngho says snidely, leaning down to take Jisoo's bottom lip in between his teeth. (The name comes from an inside joke started months ago, when Youngho's first piece was ever published and cited. People started addressing him as Mister rather than just Johnny and Jisoo, although elated with pride, found the way the usually brash and confident Youngho blushed a bit every time he was called with a title to be nothing short of endearing, even more so when he found it to be a small turn on for his boyfriend. He proceeded to call him that, Mr. Seo, over the phone, and ended up in quite a ribald exchange in the bathrooms of the travel office. His formal tone, however, comes probably from the fact Youngho feels the need to inject humor into everything he does.) He continues, "Since you are everything my entire fantasy is made of."

Smiling and humming, Jisoo lets his mouth be victim to Youngho's attacks once, twice more, their tongues massaging together in a way that takes Jisoo's breath away. Gasping for breath, Jisoo lets the sudden dizziness sink into his body, standing just on his tiptoes to pull Youngho down harder and have his breath fawn over his lips. "Well, you're pretty hot yourself, Mr. Seo." (Youngho husks a "Fuck.") "But don't you think this place is a little dirty to be turning your boyfriend on in?"

Chuckling, Youngho gives Jisoo's ass another squeeze, bumping their foreheads together as he hikes a knee up to rub against the latter's crotch. "And you, my cute baby boy, are the dirtiest little thing I know."

Swallowing his whine, Jisoo nods as he bites his lip, looking up with his face starting to flush the harder Youngho presses against him. "You make a compelling point," he sighs, yelping when both of the latter's hands pinch his behind. Jisoo's hands come up, cupping his boyfriend's jaw and running a thumb over his plump lips gently, yet suggestively. "But your mouth certainly sounds like it needs washing out with soap."

"Oh, you have no idea..." Youngho tips Jisoo's head back by the chin, "what I can do with my mouth."

Before another word, Youngho's dropping to his knees, his jeans scuffing in the grime on the floor, and Jisoo is slapping a hand over his mouth as he sharply breathes in. 

Looking down, Jisoo wishes he could burn the image into his memory: Youngho - with his pink cheeks and lips sheen with spit - tugging the zipper of boyfriend's jeans with his teeth. It's nothing short of alluring, madly erotic like a jug of provocativeness has doused the both of them. Jisoo gnaws at his lip, his body heating up more and more in such a tensional, scandalous way. Youngho's fingers rise up and scale Jisoo's stomach like he's determined to feel every inch of him as he can as he mouths teasingly over the tent in the former's briefs. The heat from his breath and the wet from his tongue make it feel like there are little droplets of fire raining down over his body. Jisoo sighs, having a hand lace into Youngho's hair as the other holds the hand at his hip. "Oh, you're gonna string this out, aren't you."

"Well, I could give you a blowjob that's the equivalent to me fucking my face with your cock or I could take my sweet, devoted time and keep you wrapped around my little finger."

Jisoo shivers and smiles. "That was strangely really sexy..." he whispers. "Do I get to choose?"

Youngho flashes both eyebrows up and Jisoo chuckles.

"Former."

"Affirmative."

In a heartbeat, Jisoo has his jeans and briefs pooling at his knees and his hardening dick between the lips of the man he loves.

He whines out, a sudden warmth spreading up his abdomen also pinkening his ears. Youngho bobs his head too quickly, letting his tongue lubricate Jisoo's shaft while his cheeks hollow and he makes incredulously wet sounds. "Johnny..." Jisoo breathes. His hand tightens to a fistful of his black hair, whimpering with his head dropping back onto the division. "Fuck, you weren't fucking kidding..."

Youngho pulls off for a second to quip, "Who needs their mouth washed out with soap again?" and smiles at the way Jisoo shudders when he laps his tongue over his slit. He slows himself down, contradictorily taking his time with wetting Jisoo's cock by engulfing it into his heat; suctioning around the head; and spreading Jisoo's own precum up and down, up and down to a rhythm that has Jisoo curling his toes. His slick mouth leaves Jisoo gasping enough, but when he takes the whole member in with his lips closing near the base, forcing Jisoo's eyes down to connect with his, Jisoo has to bite his hand to stop himself from screaming. "Johnny," he whimpers croakily again like that's the only word that manages to come from his lips, despite the aggregate of curses and exclaims that buzz around his mind every second. 

Youngho keeps him hanging by a single thread, taking the way Jisoo clenches his fist or the way his dick twitches as an indicator to pull off and tease. A long string of saliva connects the head to Youngho's lips, and Jisoo perfectly melts at the godforsaken, sinful sight. He chews his lip and begs him with his eyes; big, glossy doe orbs that scream,  _please let me cum, please, please, please..._ Because Seo Youngho could be on his back, vulnerable, letting Jisoo do as he wishes and he'd still keep the addictive dominant reign over everything he does.

"You wanna cum, baby boy?" The string breaks and is left on Youngho's chin, so vulgar and dirty that Jisoo feels he'll need to kneel and pray to stop the image of it tainting his brain. Jisoo nods and bites his lip again, trying to gasp down the moan as Youngho gently places kisses along his shaft. He fails and a loud, shaky moan echoes around the empty bathroom, no one to hear it but them, but Jisoo smacks his hand over his mouth again anyway because of the possibility that someone  _could._ And that feeling makes Jisoo feel ecstatic.

"Please," Jisoo whispers, stroking his hand through Youngho's hair. "Please, yes, God." The more Youngho looks at him - with his dark eyes and dark lips and dark face - with his hand pruriently sliding up and down his cock, the more desperate Jisoo becomes.

"Blasphemy, baby," Youngho laughs, taking pure pleasure in the way Jisoo writhes and gasps and whimpers, subconsciously pouting like a toddler not getting the candy he wants. "I really think we ought to do something about that dirty mouth of yours."

"Youngho, please... don't be a dick..." Jisoo scrunches his eyes shut and rolls his head back, hands stroking their way through his boyfriend's hair in some sort of treaty. "Please, just let me cum." Youngho clenches his fist around his length and Jisoo lets out a small wail. "Please, yes, like that." He bites his lip and Youngho jerks his hand faster. "Hnng--"

With his mouth letting out a swarm of uncontrolled moans - not caring anymore who hears - Jisoo's shoulders go tense, and his skin starts to flood with fires from a pit of indescribable pleasure. Amongst his streams of whines and groans, gasps, and moans, Jisoo utters one name, that, when leaving his lips, shoot pure electric bolts up his spine, and through the veins of his love, who sighs in bliss and laps his tongue over the head. "Johnny," Jisoo rasps, throwing his head back and smacking it hard against the division. "Youngho!" he chokes, louder, hearing it reverberate across the tiles, and following it with a cry. He barely gets to warn, a desperate whine the most he can manage before his whole body stills, his face screwing, and all he can feel is his world dissolving into pleasure as he cums thickly into Youngho's mouth.

The sight of his boyfriend, lips stained with white and mouth full of release, barely registers with Jisoo as a wave of calm and invincibility washes over him, subconsciously pawing at Youngho's head as the latter swallows and pants and pulls himself to his feet. He's kissing Jisoo again, this time softer, but with more flair, and a taste Jisoo wonders why he's so adamant to share. Jisoo's still breathing heavily, taking one look at Youngho's wide, bright smile and dropping his head into his chest.

"Well... you've certainly proved to me... what your mouth can do, Mr. Seo."

Youngho laughs and pulls Jisoo in closer, helping him tug up his jeans. "Stop that, baby boy, you know what that does to me."

"Hm, I'm aware." Jisoo's lips curl into a smile and he looks up with a mischevious grin, his chest still rising and falling. "My mouth needs washing out with soap, does it?"

Youngho quirks his brow.

Standing slightly on his toes, Jisoo hooks his arms around Youngho's shoulders, reaching his mouth up to nibble on his ear and whisper, "I've heard cum quite does the trick..."

"Oh, fuck--"

Jisoo drops quickly to his knees with a thud, and the cycle starts all over again.

 

"Are we lost?"

Youngho gives a disbelieving hum as he looks around the long stretch of barely populated highway. "Nope, I know where we are."

Dropping his sunglasses so he can peek over, Jisoo looks at Youngho, who shakes his head and carries on driving. "Really?"

"Yeah, totally."

"Oh." Jisoo's lips curl into a smile. "So that sign that just read Interstate 83 is lying, right?"

Youngho purses his lips and creases his brow. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, babe, we're a bit lost."

Laughing, Jisoo throws his arms in the air dejectedly, teasing, "You had one job, and it was to stick to Route 66."

Stammering his protests, Youngho quickly gives up, sighing. "Alright, Captain, where to now?"

Reading off the map he'd downloaded on his phone, Jisoo hums. "Uhm... coming up on your right is the junction to I-62, then we take another right and should lead us up to Highway 27." He closes his phone and drops it into his lap. "That'll lead us back up to Amarillo through town roads."

The sun's setting over to the west and, between that, the road, and the love of his life, Jisoo stares happily. "Hey, remember that July when we went to the pier?" he says. "Just after my friend's birthday."

"Of course." Youngho drops his hand on Jisoo's thigh and squeezes it. "How could I ever forget  _that_ night?"

"Oh-" Jisoo smacks his hand playfully. "-not that part."

"What part other than the part where we were in the back of your dad's Volvo and--"

Jisoo quickly covers Youngho's mouth with his palm, shushing loudly as the latter laughs. "Not. That. Part."

"What part then?"

"When we were under the actual pier, and the sun was setting."

Youngho opens his mouth and hums. "Uh... no?"

Jisoo quirks his brow. "You  _don't?"_

Shaking his head, his boyfriend smiles. "Why, what happened under the pier?"

Jisoo looks at him with his mouth slightly ajar. Maybe it's because he's brought himself up to be one of the most hopeless romantics one can hope to meet, or maybe he just has a damn good memory, but Jisoo certainly knows he remembers. He's used to walking along the beach, but the sea washing over his feet felt a little more magic that night; he's no stranger to the sun soaking his skin, but the bright star glare shone just a little more brilliantly back then. He remembers how he and Youngho, hand in hand, danced around the rickety pillars and laughed like they told gut busters. It was an evening sometime between prom and graduation, where Jisoo knew he wouldn't be able to hold Johnny for much longer and vowed to cherish every second they had left. It was then, as Jisoo watched the way the orange glow swept over Youngho's soft skin, that he stood on his tiptoes and kissed his lips, whispering, "Hey."

Youngho looked down, smiled and said back, "Hey."

"I really think I'm in love with you." 

"You seriously don't remember?"

"Honey, we went to the pier a hundred times, help me out?"

Jisoo doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Sure, Youngho's forgetful -- Jisoo's pretty sure he forgets what year he's in half the time. But this? This time that, to Jisoo, stands out as such a significant moment, not only in any relationship, but in his life too? "I can't believe you don't remember the first time I told you I love you."

"Oh!" Youngho exclaims. " _That_ July under the pier. You could've just said that, babe. Why are you bringing that up suddenly?"

Jisoo settles back into his seat and hums. "I don't know." He looks at the sunset, the scenic incandence that carries over the tops of buildings, then he looks at Youngho's, whose beauty seems to outshine any God-given gift to this world.

 

Jisoo gasps and sits up from the back seat. "Turn it up!" 

"What happened to taking a nap?" 

"I'm not tired." Jisoo clambours into the front passenger seat and cranks up the dial on the stereo. The solid, addictive beat to the classic 80's song sounds loud through the old speakers and Jisoo starts to nod his head as Youngho watches endearingly.

"Been working, so hard," Jisoo sings, "I'm punching my card. Eight hours, the word--"

"Wait, what?"

"What?" Jisoo peeks at his boyfriend over his glasses. 

"What did you just sing?"

"Eight hours, the word, oh tell me what I got."

"Those aren't the lyrics," Youngho laughs, turning the volume down a tad. "You sang them wrong."

"Yes, they are the lyrics!"

"They're not, hon, trust me."

Jisoo folds his arms. "Are you trying to tell me you know my favorite song from my favorite movie better than me?"

"Seriously, search it up, Josh, I know it's, 'Eight hours, for what.'"

Playfully, Jisoo pulls his phone from his pocket and jokes, "You're gonna look silly, baby." 

"I guarantee, I'm not."

Punching into the search bar, Josh reads over the lyrics in a rhythmic, monotone voice: "Been working so hard, I'm punching my card. Eight hours, for--" He frowns and scrunches up his nose as Youngho throws his head back and laughs. "What _ever._ You think  _Grease_ is better than  _Footloose_ you clearly have no idea what you're on about."

"Excuse me, John Travolta made history with Grease Lightning."

"Uh, sure, if you think John Travolta beats Kevin Bacon angrily dancing around a warehouse."

"He does, I--"

Jisoo bops his shoulder to the time of the tune and sings loudly over Youngho. "Now I gotta cut loose, footloose!" he shouts, probably off key and out of tune, but Youngho grins in fondness nonetheless. "Please, Lousie, pull me off of my knees!"

"I don't know what it is with you lately, baby boy," Youngho says, eyes snapping between the road and Jisoo as the car glides past the  _Welcome to New Mexico_ sign. "But you're acting awfully flippant." He reaches over and pokes his boyfriend's head. "Maybe all this fresh, open air is getting to your head, huh?"

Jisoo rolls his head back and laughs. "I'm trying to tell you, it will if you don't even try!" He looks over at Youngho whose side profile is covered in a sheen layer of sweat, shining in the sun. "Oh, I don't know," he says, "maybe it's you."

"Me?"

"Yeah." Jisoo rests his arms back on the division between the front seat and back. "Maybe I'm just getting so wrapped up in you, I don't know how to think straight." His voice, intentionally is, dripped in seduction. Call him Godless (his mother sure would) but Jisoo's come to notice he's got an awful habit of not being able to control himself anymore. It's like the classic case of a strict parent keeping their child in chains -- one day the child's going to break free and drown themselves in stimulants, freedom, crime and all sorts of adventures that'll lead them back to being in shackles. Jisoo's that kid: he's been kept for so long in the confines of thousands of miles that now, now his cage has been opened, he's spreading his wing, finding Youngho to be the most addictive type of stimulant, and more. He's the drink calling to an already drunken Jisoo, he's the friend offering a daunting looking spliff, he's every drug under the sun that Jisoo knows he's madly hooked on, and he's the officer that'll walk him back to jail in superlative metal chains. Jisoo's madly in love with everything that Youngho is and is perfectly okay with that. He brings his lips right next to Youngho's ear and whispers to him. "As Kenny Loggins would say: now I gotta cut loose, right?"

Rolling his lips together, Jisoo sees the great flood of pink flushing Youngho's sunkissed face. "Don't get me wrong, I'm loving this side of you, but you wouldn't be trying to seduce me while I'm driving, now would you, Jisoo?"

Wearing a sultry smile, Jisoo kicks his shoes off and leaves them in the space under the glove box. "Why would you think that?" He sits side on in the seat, being able to swing his legs over and lie them in Youngho's lap. "How un-Christian of you to think that."

"Oh, right," Youngho snorts. "Your feet are pressing against my crotch, and you call me un-Christian?" He shakes his head and flashes Jisoo a killer smile, it suddenly faltering as Jisoo presses his toes right on the sensitive tip of his cock, rubbing hard. "Fuck, forget Christian, this isn't very safe of you."

Chuckling in what he hopes is a deep seductive tone, Jisoo bites his finger. "Are you sure you want to think about safety now?" He rubs his hand over the prominent tent in his own shorts, watching as Youngho's eyes flutter shut, only to jar them open and let a moan slip by his lips. "There's so much other stuff you could be thinking of."

"Jesus, Josh, when did you get so good at dirty talk, huh? Last time I remember it you were mumbling and stuttering your ass off."

In some sort of pinch back, Jisoo curls his toes right along Youngho's bulge and smiles at the way the latter hisses and groans. Tucking his hand into his own underwear Jisoo sighs. "Hurry to the motel and I can show you how good I've gotten at this." 

Youngho's never slammed his foot as hard in his life.

 

By the time the sun sank behind the western horizon, Jisoo had painted cum over the seat, the dashboard and his hands. Twice. Youngho had barely batted an eyelid all day. 

It's dark and Jisoo's skin shimmers with the huge, pink illuminant light marking vacancy. He sits on his finger, feeling needy although having released already. He looks at Youngho, who jumps out of the car and points, "Wait there." before leaving to book in. Jisoo feels he's coming down with a fever: head hot, dizzy, sweating, lifeless drift washing over his aching body -- of course, they could also all just be symptoms of third-degree arousal, as he watches his boyfriend jog back, to the trunk before standing at the passenger door and swinging it open. He leans down, the question of, "What on earth?" on the tip of Jisoo's tongue as his arms are pulled over Youngho's shoulder, then his torso until his hips lie just over the broad plain and his legs are dangling by Youngho's chest.

"Johnny!" he cries, picking his head up as Youngho carries him, like a toddler over his shoulder. "Johnny, put me down, oh my  _God!"_

"Ow, stop wriggling," Youngho laughs, patting Jisoo's butt when he doesn't comply.

"Johnny, put me down I swear to God, I won't let you touch me for a week!"

"Like you can last that long."

Jisoo deflates and whines, "I'm not a child!" 

"You're acting like one."

Granted, Jisoo did spend the last few hours jerking off, whining and begging for his boyfriend to pull over and touch him, and tried just about every trick in the book (with a lot of excess pouting thrown in). But still, being slung over Youngho's shoulder like a disobedient boy was not on his mind when he planned out all the things that were to happen when the two reached the motel. Then again, with both of Youngho's big palms clasping over his body and the 5'8" man being carried like he was a feather, Jisoo will admit that the feeling of being manhandled is more than a simple stimulant.

Youngho drops him on the rickety double bed against the wall with an  _oof,_ leaning down to pick his chin up and kiss him fervently. Jisoo goes to wrap his arms around his neck only to have them snatched up in Youngho's grasp and held up momentarily as his boyfriend says, "You've lasted this long, honey, surely you can make a little longer." and letting him go.

"God, Johnny, please!" Jisoo begs. He reaches out for the belt to Youngho's jeans, the latter quickly darting away with a laugh. Jisoo groans, a hard-on somehow growing in his shorts as he smashes a pillow into his own face. "You're such a jerk."

Youngho guffaws, a beautiful sound Jisoo would say is the most beautiful to his ears, but is currently too busy with his face muffled by goose feathers to comment. "I'm sorry, baby boy," he says, "you're just the cutest when you're flustered and worked up."

"Well, I hope I look adorable because I am  _very_ worked up!" Jisoo concentrates hard, biting his lip with his eyes squeezing shut. He concentrates on his fifth-grade drama teacher telling the class how to master a perfect fake cry and lets out a tiny, broken, (fake) sob into the pillow.

Youngho, who thus far had been rambling about a cool Italian place he saw down the road, halts from pulling clothes and toiletries from their bags. "Jisoo?" he calls, frail and concerned, and Jisoo beams with his face in the pillow. "Baby, are... you crying?"

Jisoo doesn't reply, but wriggles, triumphant as two large blobs of tears roll down his cheeks, whimpering faintly to the floorboards creaking as Youngho walks over.

"Oh... Josh, I'm sorry, okay?" Youngho's voice is tender, sweet, not a drop of teasing swimming amongst his words. "I was only playing, babe." He holds Jisoo's shoulders softly, trying to pry him over and hug him. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

Underneath it all, it's rather endearing how someone so broad and sexy as Johnny Seo can flash between a slinky bastard and a caring man in mere seconds. His touch sends shivers, his voice warming and homely, and Jisoo almost feels bad for tricking him. 

Before Youngho can roll him over, Jisoo extends his leg, hooking it around the formers and swinging both of them down, crashing onto the mattress, Youngho on his back and Jisoo on his hips. He  _almost_ feels bad. He brings his face right up to Youngho's and laughs as he flushes a shade of pink. "You did take theatre with me, right?"

"Oh, fuck you," Youngho chuckles. "Alright, alright, you got me--  _ah, fuck!"_

Jisoo pays no attention to the way Youngho's body tenses, his legs clasping underneath him and just continues to grind his hips roughly down on the latter. "What was that you said, huh? You can wait a little longer?"

Youngho bites his lips and reaches for Jisoo's hips, only for his boyfriend to snatch his wrists up and pin them above his head. "Come on, babe," he groans, "quit playing."

Jisoo laughs, deep and sultry, and makes a long line of kisses down Youngho's neck, who's growing harder and harder with every hip roll. "But you're just the cutest when you're flustered, baby." He watches the way Youngho drops his head and gasps, grinning boastfully. "Come on now, don't be shy. Tell me what you want." The longer he lets the seductively tainted words breeze from his lips, the more he feels Youngho's will and dominance cracking, such an unknown sight and feeling that it close to frightens him how much power he has in his hands (or in his hips, moreover).

Turning his head to the side, Youngho moans as Jisoo takes his shirt between his teeth, pulling it halfway up his torso before nudging the rest with his nose. As Jisoo's thick, red lips circle around one of his pert nipples, Youngho bucks his hips, Jisoo's hands still firmly gripping his wrists as he mutters faintly.

"What was that?" Jisoo kisses his chest, rising and falling. "I want to hear it nice and clear now." He jerks his hips once, faster and rougher, while pressing his lips together hard with a nub between them.

"Shit!" Comes the cry. "Jisoo, please, fuck!"

"More."

"Pretty fucking please, Josh. God, I've wanted to touch you all fucking day, okay?"

"But you didn't."

"I didn't." Youngho almost whines. "But now I need it, please baby."

Jisoo sits up and hums, like he was seriously considering it. Of course, there's no way he's actually willing to pass this up, but seeing the way Youngho's big, brown eyes glisten at him hopefully... he's torn between the two. "Oh, I don't know--"

Jisoo is silenced by a shrill ring echoing around the room and the deep buzz of vibrations against the wooden table. His lips curl into a sadistic grin as he reaches over and reads the ID of Youngho's phone, handing it to him. "You should take that."

Youngho takes one look and his eyes burst wide. "Josh, no." 

"Josh, yes." He slides off of Youngho's hips and fishes around in the bag for a bottle of lubricant. "Go on, don't keep her waiting." Jisoo can see the worry splattered on his boyfriend's face and again he almost feels sorry for a second. Seating himself back on the bed, Jisoo makes a show of wiggling from his pants in the clear view of a very red, very turned on Youngho.

He puts the phone to his ear and gulps, shakily saying, "Hi, mom."

Jisoo can't hear the conversation, and as he watches Youngho staring at him stripping off his shirt he can tell the latter isn't either.

"Yeah, we're f-fine." (Jisoo grabs a pillow and relaxes back onto it, his chilled body rippling with goosebumps as he takes a lubricated finger and teases it at his already stretched entrance.) "We just arrived in Santa Fe. They got a lot of really cool... cool..." (Jisoo can feel Youngho's eyes burn into him, his breath becoming unsteady as he teases them both with his delicate fingers pressing into his hole.) "What? Oh, uh... cool rocks... in the desert. (Jisoo arches his back, silently gasping as he breaches himself rather easily, still feeling the drag of two of his digits inside him.) "Me? Yeah, I'm fine... just a bit under the weather." (Youngho covers the receiver and hisses, "You're gonna be the death of me." Jisoo fucks himself with his fingers and blows him a kiss anyway.) "Jisoo's taking care of me fine, yes mom."

With three, four of his digits knuckle deep inside him, Jisoo sweats and starts to crawl back over Youngho. He tugs his boyfriend's jeans down, paying ample amounts of attention to his bulge with his hands, lips, tongue before kneeling and rubbing his slicked behind over it. 

Youngho chokes in the middle of his sentence and clasps his hand over his mouth, his eyes begging up at Jisoo desperately as the moan starts to crawl through his throat. "Fuck, baby please, oh God... Nothing, mom, don't worry."

Jisoo finally pulls Youngho's member from his confines and strokes it slowly, Youngho dropping his head back and breathing out heavily. "Mh-hm... Yeah, I know." One hand comes to grope Jisoo's behind, sneaking his fingers down to tease just as much as the latter has been teasing him. Feeling his long, thick digits gravel in such a place, Jisoo shivers, small fuses starting to heat up from his head to his toes. "We are, don't worry."

Something to be said about Jisoo is that he's not a fan of losing. When he wants something, he'll do what he can to get it -- he's not a sore loser but has his streaks of valiant thirst for victory. He swats Youngho's hand away suddenly, yanking down this undergarment and aligning the head of Youngho's cock with his ass.

"Okay, yeah, I'll tell him. Bye, mom. I love you-- _Jesus fucking Christ!"_

Jisoo slams his hips down, taking in all of Youngho at once, crying out with his head thrown back and Youngho scrambling to hang up the phone. 

"Josh!" 

Laughing, biting his lip and clinging onto Youngho's chest, Jisoo looks down with the hottest stare he can give, riding his hips up and down, back and forth. Youngho clasps his hands around his waist and moans, ravishing the entirety of Jisoo's body like he hadn't eaten in a week. "Well, it was nice hearing her voice, wasn't it?" Jisoo comments with unintentional snide slipping into his word.

Youngho takes one big, long look at Jisoo with his mouth quirked into a smile before he abruptly tosses the latter to the side, landing him into the pillows with his legs jarred in the air. Jisoo gasps then chuckles triumphantly, watching with excited threading through his veins as Youngho lathers a considerable application of lube to himself and is fucking Jisoo faster than he can comprehend. "You're such a... fucking tease," Youngho growls, his hips quickly thrusting in and out of Jisoo. "You really have changed, haven't you."

Between moaning and mewling, his dainty body being used so unceremoniously, Jisoo rasps, "You can't- ah, blame me, right?" He gives a Chesire cat grin, each breath he takes coming in rough and ragged. "Besides... you know you liked it."

Youngho lets out a broken groan and wraps Jisoo tighter in his arms. He leaves his assortment of marks littered around the black and purple already present on his neck and husks, right into Jisoo's ear, "You're such a bad boy for doing that to me." 

Jisoo shivers and whines and flexes his body out, stuttering incoherent words with cries as Youngho slams his length deep into his sweet spot. He scratches his nails down Youngho's back, sweat slicked and soft and leaves long, red streaks in their wake. "Fuck..." he curses, "Oh fuck, there!" Youngho pins him there, hitting him again and again with heated waves of ecstasy. He's on fire, burning bright with his flames of passion licking what they can reach and catching on until all he can feel is heat and ardor. He cries out louder, uncaring of who else in the motel can hear them -- for Jisoo, it's just them that matter in the world. "Johnny," he bleats, clinging onto him for dear life and tragedy as one by one the tiny fuses burst and Jisoo's drowning in an overwhelming crypt of pleasure. He cums hard, built up after a time of ragging and tempting, and doesn't stop whining until he feels Youngho cum in him too.

Collapsed in a heap, the room is filled with simmering highs and breathy pants. Two sweat covered bodies lie (rather sticky) together, embraced and with post-elation sinking into their bones. Youngho moves first, picking his head up from Jisoo's chest and smiling his endearing, dorky smile. He leans in, a frail kiss pressed to Jisoo's lips as he whispers, "My bad boy, huh?"

Jisoo laughs, exhaustion numbing his fingers and toes and he wraps them around Youngho's shoulders. "Baby, I'll be anything you want me to be."

("Does that include a sexy nurse?"

"Don't get your hopes up.")

 

"This is the second most stunning thing I've ever seen."

Jisoo tears his eyes from the glowing sunset over the Pacific and looks at Youngho. They sit together on the hood of the car, a blanket wrapped around the both of them as Jisoo sits cradled in Youngho's arms. "The second?"

"Yeah." His boyfriend quirks a greasy grin, leaning his head closer to Jisoo's. He can see the sea reflecting in Youngho's eyes, but thinks that's not even an inch deep on the beauties his eyes can hold. "You're the first, of course."

"Oh, my God." Jisoo shakes his head and turns a little in Youngho's arms. "You are so  _gross_ sometimes." 

On a small detour from Santa Monica, the two had taken a thirty-minute drive along the Pacific Coast Highway up to Malibu, where they sit at a lonely viewpoint not far from the beach. Youngho kisses him softly after Jisoo stops giggling, the look between them the most tender they've ever conceived. California always feels the same, but with Youngho it feels so new. He lets out a sigh and Youngho quirks his brow.

"Are you okay?"

Inhaling, Jisoo finally looks away, somehow unbaffled by the gorgeous view in front of him. He won't deny, it's certainly stunning as Youngho says, but his problem is that it's the same. He's spent two weeks away from the coast and in that short time, he's not missed home at all. He does, he really does love the west coast - it's always been the place he's called home; his family are here; his friends are here; everything he's ever known has been California. And every time he crosses that state-line he wishes something new will surprise him - a new building, a fresh part of beach, somewhere up in the heights he's yet to explore. But no, California's the same old place it has been for twenty-two years, and even if his patriotic heart lies on the sands of Venice, he knows he'll always want something new. "I don't think so, no."

"Talk to me."

For him, Youngho's that something. Not a second on that trip did Jisoo spend bored. Brushed by the exciting winds of the Midwest, every second felt stimulated; exciting; adventurous and he's having trouble deciding if that was just America or the love of his life. He finally lets that breath out and stares at the dusty sand being blown from the edge of the cliff. 

"You're not happy, are you?"

Jisoo swallows thickly, his hands sprawled in Youngho's as he slowly shakes his head. "It's just... tomorrow, you'll be getting on a flight back to Chicago, and I'll be going back to my boring office job with the same boring people doing the same boring things and looking at the same boring Thai shop across the road. And I'm not kidding - they haven't changed their decor since 2007." He sits up, realizing he doesn't want Youngho to reply to him just yet. "Baby, I've never been happier in my life than when I'm with you. And I never want this to end." He takes his hands in his and sighs. "I'm so sick of always hearing about your days full of fun and adventure and I'm stuck looking at the beaches on a screen that I want to be at." He exasperates a groan and runs his hands through his hair. No matter how many times he says it, Jisoo doesn't feel fulfilled. "God, I want to be with you so bad I want to scream."

"Do it," Youngho says. "Go on, scream."

Jisoo doesn't know what's possessed him but he abruptly turns on his heels and grips the fence over the cliff, throwing his body forward and letting out a high, loud, long yell. Youngho laughs loud too, cheering him on as Jisoo's voice tremors and cracks, but he screams. He screams so loud the birds flutter from the trees; he screams so everyone in earshot knows that he's in love. He's in love and he wants to be happy. Panting, an echo rolls across the valley, silence following before another wave of ocean crashed against the rocks. He turns back to Youngho, out of breath as he pulls him in by the cheeks for an intense, zealous kiss. It's messy and neither of them care about it as Youngho folds back onto the hood, secure in one another's embrace. "Fuck, I love you." Jisoo gasps, hooking his arms around Youngho's neck.

"Come with me."

Foreheads pressed together, Jisoo frowns. "What?"

"Quit your shitty job, Josh. Pack your bags, get on a flight with me to Chicago then we can go anywhere we want."

The ratio of pros to cons for this are a million to one, the favor being with the cons. What about money, a living, a house, protection, family, food... why does none of it seem relevant to him now. Two weeks ago, of Youngho had called him saying the same, Jisoo would've told him he's stupid. Cute, but stupid. But in the face of it now, Jisoo can't bring himself to care about anything but him. He and Youngho could be starving, weak, on the edge of glory or death and Jisoo doesn't think he'd care. He's in love, madly so; insanely so. All he wants is Him.

"You mean that?"

"Of course I do." Youngho kisses him again, like every time he presses his lips to Jisoo a chip of his worries is chiseled off.

Slowly, with his smile curving over his face, Jisoo chuckles and brings Youngho's face close, his head nodding. "Okay."

Jisoo may never find a place he feels belonging to, but he thinks he'll never care. As long as he's in Youngho's arms, he knows he's always home.

**Author's Note:**

> me, someone who's never been outside europe: lets write this extensive piece about going to america  
> first fic past 10k y'all remember when i didnt have that dastardly habit ??
> 
> again this is for and also half imagined by my b clara, weren't expecting this much now were ye ha
> 
> anyway, thnx for reading hope u liked <3


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